


A Fever, Longing Still

by fencer_x



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi tells a bedtime story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fever, Longing Still

Nezumi laughs at him when he asks it out of the blue--and Shion would be offended if it wasn’t a common response from his friend. Instead, he just tenses his shoulders and slumps forward, hunching over and earning a pinch to his shoulders from Nezumi where he sits behind Shion. "Don't sit like that, you'll make new knots."

"Sorry…" Shion apologizes out of habit, and if a hint of petulance seeps into his voice, he feels it is justified. It was a simple question--and just because it's one he's asked a dozen times over doesn't mean Nezumi has to brush it off so callously. Why shouldn't Shion wonder things like what sort of environment Nezumi grew up in, or if he has any family, or what his real name is? When Nezumi knows all of these things about Shion already?

It's quite unfair--and when he voices these concerns aloud, Nezumi responds by digging his thumbs into the space just below Shion's shoulder blades with more force than Shion is sure was necessary. When he whimpers in pain at the rough treatment--well, rougher than Nezumi's usual massages--he's somewhat placated by the soft, "Ah…sorry…" that follows, barely audible the the heavy silence between them, and shivers at the way Nezumi presses his chest against Shion's bare back, the rough linen drawing goosebumps in his flesh and sending his heartbeat rising at a pace he's sure Nezumi must recognize, feeling the _thump thump_ rhythm through his chest.

Shion brings his knees up to his chest and tries to relax his shoulders so Nezumi can work at the knots a bit more--he feels like a hunk of tenderized meat already, but he doesn't yet want Nezumi to stop his attentions, especially when it feels like somehow _Nezumi_ is the one more relaxed at times like this. Maybe it's something like osmosis, Shion considers, and smiles to himself that sometimes his academy learnings do still come in handy in the shantytowns that dot the outskirts of No. 6's walls.

Nezumi's thumbs rub hypnotic circles at he base of Shion's neck, not too rough but not too soft, and Shion closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth, the calloused pads of Nezumi's fingers flying light and intently over his skin. "Fine--but you can't interrupt me." He's certain Nezumi notices the small intake of breath Shion can't help taking, but Shion stops him from commenting on it by nodding a few times in quick succession.

Nezumi spreads his palms wide and squeezes Shion's shoulders, rubbing a long strip on either side from Shion's biceps up to just below his ears and back again. "So--I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and an asshole of a cousin who teased me for being a shrimp. I used to have parents, apparently, but they died in some nasty accident before I could even remember. So I got shifted onto my relatives, and well--they didn't exactly appreciate that." Shion frowns at the image. He's hardly been under the false impression that Nezumi had grown up in anywhere near the environment Shion had--but to be confronted with the truth of the matter and have it drilled into him that it was real, that Nezumi had really lived through it all--that is another matter entirely.

He leans back against the edge of the bed, resting his head lightly against the inside of Nezumi's knee where he sits with his legs hanging off the edge, straddled with Shion nestled in between. Nezumi reaches forward and runs his palms over the smooth skin stretched across Shion's pectorals, rubbing in large, open circles. "It was nice to have a place to crash--a roof over my head, fairly regular meals. I know lots of kids my age didn't even have that. But it was kind of hard to remember to be grateful for all that when I was practically living in a closet and my cousin was beating the shit out of me every time he and his friends got me alone."

Shion twists in place, expression horrified. "Why didn't you tell anyone?!"

Nezumi's frown deepens, and he takes Shion by the shoulders and firmly turns him back around. "Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me? Geez." He sighs loudly with obvious annoyance. "Anyways--he was their little darling, so what was I supposed to say? It did teach me to eventually fight back, though, so I guess he had his uses." Shion doesn't honestly think this excuses anything, personally, but Nezumi is distracted, drawing shapes in Shion's flesh with his fingers, and continues his story. "It went on like that for…I don't remember, years I guess. Until one day…"

Nezumi trails off, as if reliving a tragic memory, and Shion's throat grows dry. Ignoring Nezumi's earlier warning, he twists around again, kneeling between his legs and bracing his hands on either thigh, looking up with worry clear on his features. "'One day'…? Nezumi?"

But Nezumi's eyes are bright with amusement, and he raises a finger. "I got a _letter_."

Shion furrows his brows in confusion. "A letter? Like--a notice?"

Nezumi shakes his head, smiling knowingly. "A _letter_ letter--on parchment paper and everything. Hand-written, sealed with wax, the works." He seems to get more into it when Shion's eyes widen in awe, leaning forward to continue in a conspiratorial whisper. "It even had a _stamp_."

"But--why would someone send you a…stamped letter?" Those are antiquated things--certainly no one within No. 6 uses precious natural resources like that for missives that could be transmitted just as easily and far more quickly via more advanced forms of technology. The very idea of a handwritten letter with all those trappings smacks of indulgence and luxury--ludicrous ideas in a place like the western block. "What did it say?" His voice is pitched a bit high with curiosity, and he finds himself tugging impatiently at the hem of Nezumi's shirt.

Nezumi chuckles softly, smile fading with memory, and he gently pries Shion's hands from where they grip at his shirt, holding them in his own and rubbing his thumbs over the pulsepoint at his wrist, almost certainly conscious of the way Shion's blood is racing in his veins tonight with the way Nezumi's touching him so preciously. "I dunno. Never got to find out. My uncle tore it up before I could read it--I don't think he was very happy someone had wasted all that effort on a little rat like me."

"You're not a _rat_ \--" Shion protests fervently, but quiets quickly at Nezumi's sharp, reproachful glance, and he bites his tongue. "Sorry…"

Nezumi shrugs. "The point is I never found out what was in the letter--but that turned out not to be so important after all."

"Why not?"

"Because--only a few days later, a strange man came knocking on our door." He leans down until their noses are almost touching, and Shion gulps, holding his breath for the other shoe to drop. "They didn't want to let him in--but he busted down the door anyways. And when he saw me…he told me the most important words of my life."

"Wh--what did he say…?" Shion's voice is trembling with anticipation, and he knows he ought to be ashamed, but he wants to know so badly--is more worried for what the next words out of Nezumi's mouth will be than he's ever been before.

"He told me… _You're a wizard, Nezumi._ "

And that's when Nezumi apparently can't hold it any more and he flops back onto the bed, covering his eyes with both hands and laughing long and loud, having what looks to be another hysterical fit even though Shion's fairly sure it's not. But given the dawning realization that is telling Shion he's just been played for the fool--he kind of wants to throw a bucket of water in Nezumi's face _just because_.

His hands fist at his sides as he launches himself up into a standing position, shoulders shaking with frustration. "You--made that all up?!"

After a moment, Nezumi calms down enough to attempt speech, but his breathing is heavy and his words are punctuated by sharp guffaws. He waves Shion away. "Didn't--make it up. It's an old book--would've thought you'd read through that whole library by now!" Shion is patently unamused, and he stalks about the room trying to remember where he tossed his shirt before his shower that evening. He's not quite sure how putting on a shirt is meant to punish Nezumi, but something within him tells him Nezumi will be annoyed if he does so.

It does the trick, somehow, and Nezumi scrambles to his knees, balancing on the bed and waving Shion back over. "Oi--I'm sorry! Don't get so pissed off--it was just a joke. I really did think you'd already read it and would recognize it immediately--"

"Well--obviously I didn't," Shion grouses, finally finding the shirt and shaking it free of wrinkles while trying to find out where to put his arms and head through. "And you're an actor; it figures I wouldn't catch on."

But then Nezumi is right behind him and gently pulling the shirt away, dropping it to the floor which is really in need of sweeping and placing his hands on either side of Shion's face to force him to face him head on. Shion at least keeps his gaze averted, stubbornly refusing to let himself get drawn in. Nezumi's good at this sort of thing--looking into Shion, _through_ him and making him forget what a horrible person he can be sometimes (okay _a lot of the time_ ). "I said I was sorry--"

"I was _serious_ ," Shion bites out, cheeks still alight with shame. "You keep so many secrets from me, stupid simple things, but you know everything about me!"

Nezumi's grip weakens, but Shion doesn't move. "I don't know everything about you," he protests softly. "And I told you before--it's better if we don't get too close. It'll be…easier. If things go sour." And Shion wants to _punch_ Nezumi, because it feels too much like he's the only one who's falling while Nezumi stands proud and tall and confident in himself, alone and self-sufficient while Shion gropes for a hand up.

He brings his hands up and covers Nezumi's where they rest just at the crook of his neck now. "Why do they have to go sour?" He dares to look directly at Nezumi, wondering if perhaps his own eyes hold some similar power, if Nezumi's attraction--like osmosis--works the other way around too. "Why can't I just stay here and be with you?" He doesn't even know what the hell he's talking about--he just says things and hopes Nezumi can decipher them for him. He's much better than Shion at reading between the lines, after all. "You're very important to me, so, I just…I _want_ to…"

Nezumi stares back at him, expression blank, and his mouth falls open just a hair, nostrils flaring as he blinks rapidly, taking a short step back as if physically distancing himself from the conversation. Shion shakes his head a few times sharply, clamping down on Nezumi's hands so he can't escape, and it does the trick, tying his friend down and setting a pained expression to his features that slowly softens into one of resignation. He runs his hands up to grip Shion just under his ears again, rubbing a thumb lightly across the wide, pink scar on his cheek. "If you want to know the important things about me…you shouldn't ask with your voice."

And then Nezumi kisses him like Shion didn't even know he desperately had been wanting, running a tongue over his lips before pushing in and deepening the contact. He walks the both of them over towards the bed, guiding Shion backwards and down onto the mattress and thereby freeing both his hands to run down Shion's side, fingers skittering over ribs and nipples and drawing goosebumps that send Shion moaning into Nezumi's mouth. His own hands come up up to clutch desperately at Nezumi's shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer, because he doesn't have a clue what's going on, only that he needs more of it, more of Nezumi leaning over him and pressing against him, sucking on his lips and delving into Shion's mouth with his tongue. He needs so much more of Nezumi whispering his name, pathetically, desperately, like he wants to tell him so much but the words just won't come out, so Shion will have to settle for knowing this part of Nezumi, because it's all he can give right now.

Shion blindly reaches out, groping, and manages to catch Nezumi's hand in his own, squeezing it in reassurance, and smiles against Nezumi's lips when he feels the tension seep out, die away, and Nezumi just falls onto the bed beside him and holds him tighter and closer than is entirely comfortable, face buried between the pillow and Shion's shoulder. Shion's heart is still beating fast, and he feels a little pathetic that he didn't really _do_ anything, that Nezumi was the brave one, as usual, but they're still holding hands, and he rolls over onto his side and lines up their bodies so that they're sharing breath.

"Did you figure out what you wanted to know?" Nezumi rasps, smiling in the low light.

Shion nods softly. "Enough for now at least."


End file.
